When Saying Goodbye Is All That's Left
by YourRegina4Ever
Summary: What happens when something goes horribly wrong? When a chance at happiness is taken from you before you even got to fully enjoy it? Is there such a thing as a peaceful goodbye, or is every goodbye another painful memory?


**Author's Note: This idea came to me some time ago, and I thought it would remain buried in all my writing, but here it is. Now, this is a one-shot, and it's not meant to be part of any of the other fics I have up. I hope you all enjoy this :) Reviews are always welcome :) **

**Song suggestion when reading this is "Window" by The Album Leaf **

Heavy breathing and screams fill the room until finally, the sound that everyone's been waiting for makes its way – the sounds of a newborn crying. The doctor has just left the room, and the nurse is kind enough to turn off the machines, so there aren't any beeping noises. After cleaning your baby, the nurse hands you what you and your wife have spent the past nine months waiting for. The nurse tells you that if you two need anything to just push the button right beside you, but you and your wife have already tuned out every single thing that isn't your baby.

There's nothing like holding that baby in your arms. The whole world stops moving, and it's just you and your baby. You can't help but smile as your baby gets used to a world outside of the comfort and safety of your womb.

You use your pinky to hold your baby's hand, and you smile and let out a small laugh when your baby wraps their hand around your pinky. You laugh even more when your wife makes a joke about how your baby is going to be the next Rocky. You joke back saying that if that doesn't happen, your baby can always be a soccer player.

Your wife gives you both a kiss and goes to find the doctor to know when you can be discharged. Pretty soon, you and your wife will be able to take your baby home. There, you'll start creating memories as a family – like baby's first steps and baby's first word and even baby's first day at kindergarten. Then, eighteen years later, baby's high school graduation and so on.

But what happens if you don't get all of that? What happens when you can't make those memories with your wife? What happens if you don't get to take your baby home after you've given birth to him or her? Was it all worth it? Was it worth all the morning sickness and all the bathroom breaks? Was it worth all the pain you went through during labor? Was it?

You tell yourself, yes. Yes, it was all worth it. It was worth everything because you know why? Your baby was alive for nine minutes. Nine precious minutes where you held the most adorable tiny human ever. Nine minutes spent where you soak in every little finger and toe and every other feature from top to bottom. Your eyes never once leave your baby because you know that you'll have to say goodbye sooner than later. You have to say goodbye. Goodbye to one of the best things that has ever happened to you.

* * *

It's not fair, but then again, when has life ever been fair? That's the question you've been asking yourself before you went to sleep at night and after you woke up in the mornings. It's the same question you and your wife have asked one another when you think that the other has already fallen asleep. A question that first came to mind when the doctor gave you back the results from your prenatal testing.

The doctor's voice that day still brings tears to your eyes.

"_I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but there is a chance that your baby might not live past an hour after birth, if not several minutes. This condition is generally passed down from the father. Babies who do survive have normal lives. Babies, who don't survive, end up living for several minutes after birth. There have been cases where some babies live for a few hours. The least amount of time was two minutes. The average is usually nine to twelve minutes. It's 50/50. Those are the chances." _

You both thought it would be a regular checkup, and instead of leaving the doctor's office with smiles and determination to finish the nursery, questions and sadness overtook your faces.

As you look at your baby, you know you don't have that much time left. After all, you and your wife both knew that there was a fifty percent chance of your baby not surviving long after birth, but you both wanted to take that chance. Fifty percent. A number that you had hoped would be in your favor, but it wasn't.

* * *

You don't want to let go of your baby for even a second, but you remember that your wife is standing looking over the two of you as you hold your baby. It's been two minutes, but you know you want to give your wife a chance to hold your baby. You don't want to make a sound because all you want to hear is your baby's breathing. But you know you have to, to give your baby a proper welcome into the world, even though you know your baby will only be here for a little while.

You open your lips and notice that no sound comes out, but your wife takes over.

"Hi, baby. It's me – your Mama. The one who's holding you right now is your Mommy. Do you know how long we've been waiting for you to come meet us? Way too long. We're glad you're finally here."

You feel the tears run down your face as you hand the baby to your wife. Your wife continues speaking for you both, and you realize you wouldn't have done this with anyone else but her.

You bite down your tears, so you don't interrupt the beautiful melody in the room – your wife's voice mixed with your baby's breathing.

"Hi, baby. You're so cute. You know, Mommy and I have been waiting for you all our lives. We just didn't know it, until now. I'm going to give you back to Mommy. I love you, baby."

You look at your wife and see the tears in her eyes, and you gently wipe away those tears with your thumb before holding your baby again. You motion for your wife to sit in the bed with you and find it in you to speak.

"Hi, little one. I-I'm your Mommy. Like Mama said, we've been w-waiting for you our whole lives. You are by far the most beautiful baby in the universe. I have loved you from the moment I first knew you were in me, and I will love you until my very last breath."

"Mama and I don't want to say goodbye to you just yet. So for now, we'll say, we'll meet you again, one day. Thank you for being a part of our lives, no matter how short our time together, may be. We love you."

Your baby's breathing becomes shallower as the seconds tick by. You know that if it's anyone who should be holding your baby as they take their last breath, it should be your wife. After all, you've spent the past nine months feeling them in your womb. This time, while she holds your baby, you hold her in your arms as you look at the both of them.

You keep your eyes open because you don't want to lose any time with your family. Then, it happens – much too soon. Your baby breathes in one last time and like that, you both kiss your baby and say one final goodbye.

The nurses come in a few minutes later and gently take your baby away from you. You hold your wife and silently let her know that it's okay to let it all out. That right here, in your arms, in this bed, in this room, your wife can cry. Because here, she's not the sheriff and you aren't the mayor. Here, she's Emma, and you're Regina, and your baby? Your baby, who weighed six pounds and three ounces and measured at eighteen and a half inches, named _Lauren Swan-Mills_, was on this earth for nine minutes.

Few hours later, when you're finally discharged, your wife comes back into the room and with the nurse, helps you get up and into the wheelchair. Your wife wheels you down the hallways, and you wonder why she's stopped. You look back at her and follow her gaze. It's the hospital's nursery. You squeeze her hand and the two of you stay there for a few minutes, looking at all the babies who'll get to go home today. Then, you and your wife go to the car.

Your wife buckles you in, and before she can close the door, you gently pull her close to you and kiss her on the forehead. She gives you a soft smile before closing the door and making her way to the driver's seat.

The drive back to your home is silent at first, but you both look at one another and start playing all the audios you both recorded of when the two of you would talk to your baby before you got to meet her today, starting with the first time you heard your baby. You get to the first traffic light and hear your baby's heartbeat as it brings a comforting peace within you.

While the wound is so very fresh and most likely will be that way for weeks, months, and maybe even a year, you both know that one day, you'll try again. You both know that when you each held your baby in your arms that you would do it all over again, even if it meant just having your baby here for nine minutes.

You get home and your wife wants to take you upstairs, so you can rest. You shake your head and tell her to get some food and meet you outside in the backyard. Your wife comes to see you sitting on the porch swing looking over the horizon. She joins you, and you both eat in silence. Afterwards, you both cuddle into each other, and your wife holds you. You both look at the sunset and then the stars.

You see a star twinkling in the distance, and you and your wife both look at each other and smile. From now on, that star would be your daughter and like the universe itself, your love for her would always be infinite.

* * *

Seven years later, in that same room where we had lost our first child, we welcomed our second one. This time, a nursery was set up and a baby shower was even thrown. This time, we were able to allow ourselves to be truly happy without feeling guilty after what happened with losing our first child. As we left the room and got inside our car to take our baby home, we felt a sense of peace wash over us.

No more darkness and despair or hiding behind the guilt of wanting another child. Instead, there is love and as we make the drive back to our house, it dawns on us that we can call it a home again.

When we tuck our baby in for the night, we look at the space on the wall right above the crib. In big bold letters is Baby Henry, and on the right side is Henry's footprint along with his sister's.

That night, for the first time in ages, we fall asleep peacefully, but not for long as our son wakes up crying. A sound neither of us would ever get tired of hearing. As I hold Henry in my arms and feed him, I look down and smile saying, "Happy Birthday, little one. We love you." I then think of Lauren and allow myself a moment and whisper into the dark, "Happy birthday to you too, princess. We love you."

**A/N: Hope you all liked this :) I've been busy with school, so bear with me as I work to update my other fics. Thank you all for your patience, and feel free to message me :) **


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